


Handmade Heaven

by somepallings



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Historical Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, a little bit sad, magical urbex, starecross hall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-20 03:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepallings/pseuds/somepallings
Summary: "All of Man's works, all his cities, all his empires, all his monuments, will one day crumble to dust... in that day, in that hour, our houses become the possession of the Raven King."Magic can increase year on year in a ruined house and stones can speak of what they saw, in rooms where the ivy is growing tall.
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus
Comments: 39
Kudos: 41





	1. Petty Egypt

WELCOME TO PETTY EGYPT – THE INTERNET MAGIC ARCHIVE

_Dedicated to archiving magical exploration and observation from deactivated forums and social media sites._

_STARECROSS RUIN AND OUTBUILDINGS INVESTIGATION from now-defunct forum “Yorkshire Magical Urbex”. Couldn’t contact the original poster so, as ever, if these were your posts and you want them taken down please email me at [EMAIL REDACTED] or ping my mirror, usual spells will work. Weirdly it looks like these posts were actually deleted in their entirely about two weeks after the first one was posted, but I found this version already archived on another site, which has also since disappeared._

_All spelling and formatting preserved, no pics left but I’ve included the alt text and any descriptions._

Page 1:

STARECROSS RUIN AND OUTBUILDINGS INVESTIGATION

Hey guys, it’s been a while but I’ve been out of the country and haven’t had a lot of time to explore. As promised, though, I found time to get out to the old Starecross ruin near Robin Hood’s bay that I posted a couple of pics of last time. It’s not that far from me and I’m not sure why I’ve never thought to get out there.

If you’ve not heard of Starecross Hall before, it’s pretty famous and it played quite a big role in the restoration of magic in this country. There was a magicians school there for ages in the 19th century and then I think Aleister Crowley or someone lived there for a while, it’s worth giving it a Google before reading ahead so you know what the hell I’m talking about lol

Anyway I headed out there with my kit last week an hour or so before sunset (forgive the lighting in the photos, it was the first chance I had). The land it’s on is part of a farm now and I’m not sure if the owner has any wards on the property, but anyway no-one bothered me. Tbh there’s not much to steal out there so even if the farmer warded he might not have bothered to do anything about me. As you guys know I don’t make a mess of places anyway, I like to observe, not to break shit or try weird spells or whatever.

I took a mirror and a basic spell kit, just for doing like scrying and a couple of things to get stones to speak, you can find my basics list here [broken link to a geocities page that no longer exists] but probably most of you have seen what I do on these trips before anyway.

I managed to get a pretty decent plan of the area from a developer ahead of time, they were going to build something out here at one time, probably holiday homes or something given the area, but it never went ahead for whatever reason.

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text reads PLAN OF THE STARECROSS COMPLEX WITH ANNOTATIONS]

Photo caption: Main house ruin is top right (circled in blue), outbuilding/barn 100m south (green circle), roofless barn/stable complex 200m east of that (red circle). Miscellaneous smaller structures between these three, including a well (yellow dot) and a beck running north west (orange squiggle). There’s actually another outbuilding not on this plan, I didn’t get close up to it on this visit but I’ve marked a pink square approximately where it is.

So regular readers will know I’m pretty sensitive to magic and honestly walking around this place was kind of crazy. Glad I brought my Thermos with me, a cup of tea and a sit down was definitely needed after I got clear of the house. I actually think it’s weird that a place with this kind of history has been allowed to get this run down. It’s a lovely bit of land and you could do it up, run tours and things, or let people pay to stay ner a genuine old magicians house. IDK, it made me pretty sad

So here are some pics I took at the house, you can see it’s really just a few crumbling walls now, no roof, no wooden fixtures left. Properly spooky too, especially that last pic!

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: FRONT OF THE RUINED HOUSE]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: BACK OF THE RUINED HOUSE]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: SIDE VIEW OF THE RUINED HOUSE]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: OTHER SIDE VIEW OF THE RUINED HOUSE WITH FACE IN UPPER WINDOW??]

I don’t actually think that’s a face btw, there’s no upper floor anymore was no-one around and I didn’t sense any magic at all. Unless it was a ghost, but you’d think that if ghosts were real I’d have seen one by now.

Last pics rom this visit. You can see the buildings I’ve marked on the plan. The furthest-away one is the one that’s not on the plan:

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: OUTBUILDINGS IN THE DISTANCE]

That’s all for now, it was just a recon to see what the lie of the land is. I’ll be posting again next week, lmk what you’d like me to check out and if there are any spells you think would be good to try

Later!


	2. Great Tom

Hey guys! Back again with more from Starecross Hall. Thanks for all the suggestions, I took some of them on board as you’ll see below. Thanks especially to exploratrix for the historical information, I knew some of it but it’s great to hear more details from an expert. I did know that Starecross school was started by John Segundus (I actually had to read one of his books in Uni lol) but I didn’t know much about the guy himself, I bet a lot of the magic I could sense came from him and his pupils. Maybe that really was him at the window, keeping an eye on me

Some people were asking about my camera, you can see the specs on my page here [broken link to a geocities page that no longer exists], it’s good enough for taking snapshots of the cool shit I see but I’m not a serious photographer tbh

ANYWAY, to get to the point, I think I’ve got some really interesting shit for you this time. The whole time I was there I was thinking how crazy it is that this place is abandoned the way it is. I mean, if you’ve ever been on the North Yorks moors you’ll already know how beautiful and eerie the landscape is by itself, and this is some pretty prime land to just have a tumbledown old ruin on it. Obvs there’s the magical residue (more on that below) but not everyone gets KOed by it like I do. Some people would probably like it even. Saying all that though, I’m glad to holiday home plans never went ahead. The place wouldn’t be much improved by crisp wrappers, energy drink cans and plastic buckets and spades lying about.

This time I went early, close to daybreak so I’d have plenty of time. Snapped a few pics in the morning light, pretty gorgeous eh:

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: none]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: none]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: none]

Now here’s the interesting bit – you know that pink outbuilding that wasn’t on the plans (OK it’s not pink but I made it a pink square, haha)? You can see it in the pics above, it’s on the far left. Looks like a little two-storey building with a flat roof and decorative crenellation, like a folly or a watchman’s tower or something. OK, remember that building, we’ll come back to it.

So I got some interior shots of the main house, and let me tell you, this place is basically saturated in magic. I was thinking at one point that I didn’t know how anyone managed to live here, especially someone like John Segundus, who was apparently sensitive to this stuff like I am (thanks exploratrix!). It’s probs his own magic though, so he’d have been fine. Probably the closest I’ll ever get to seeing a ghost, walking through a long-dead magician’s left behind magic like that all morning.

I had a good walk about inside the house. The roof is pretty much completely gone, so it’s got a lot of greenery inside and there’s not much left in there that would make you think of a house. I didn’t even cast any spells in there (not even my trademark stone-speaking) because I was honestly a little scared to.

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: VIEW OF UPPER STOREY WINDOWS FROM INSIDE HOUSE SHELL]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: FRONT DOOR HOLE]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: CARVING OF A RAVEN ABOVE THE ONLY INTACT DOOR LINTEL]

You can bet that raven carving gave me a fright when I saw it! There were some crows hanging about, and I saw about as many magpies as you can imagine. You don't often see your actual ravens just kicking it these days, of which I'm glad, because I'm a coward.

I shone the mirror about but I didn’t see anything reflected in it that shouldn’t have been. Then I got out of there because I was starting to feel dizzy and I didn’t want to waste the day puking into a hedge like that time at Grosmont.

So, my plan was to walk out to the pink-box-building and then make my way back, past the other buildings, the beck and maybe take a look into the well if I could (obviously going near abandoned wells is HELLA DANGEROUS, please don’t do the stupid things that I do). Well, here’s what I saw when I stepped out of the main house ruin:

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: VIEW OF STARECROSS OUTBUILDINGS WITH ONE MISSING]

WHERE DID IT GO?? I promise I haven’t doctored these images. That building was just gone as fuck. No wonder it wasn’t on the plans, the person who drew them up clearly just didn’t see the thing.

So I’m thinking that this is some Serious Magic, it’s one thing for a place to make a delicate flower like me high as a kite, it’s another to have a building flicker in and out like a candle.

Given that I saw it last time at dusk and this time at dawn, I guessed it was time-of-day dependent. So I spent the afternoon (lucky I brought a picnic with me) just wandering around taking pictures and poking about in the barn and stables. Nothing truly amazing in any of these tbh, and no real magical auras above the ordinary. I’ve archived the photos here: here [broken link to a geocities page that no longer exists] Shone the mirror around a bit, caught some interesting bits and pieces (get this – horses in the stables and pigs in the sty, can you believe it?) and the stone-speaker spell turned up some snippets about “well-loved” and “cared for”, and what I (hilariously) reckon was a complaint about Aleister Crowley and his friends doing some kind of weird sex magic in one of the haylofts, which apparently the building wasn’t keen on (see spellsker’s trip out to Boleskine house for more on that fool, p sure spellsker posted a link on these forums somewher).

I’ll do a proper nerdy spell write-up for anyone who wants to read chapter and verse on that, and I’ll link it in the comments.

I walked over to where that building had been and could not find one trace of it. Whoever set whatever spell it’s under did an incredible job, you wouldn’t know there was anything hidden at all. There is a short road that leads down to it with hedges on either side (I know what you’re thinking but thankfully it wasn’t a fairy road and I remain unbrughed for now), managed to thouroughly creep myself out imagining someone inside the hidden building watching me tramp around and around in circles outside, all the while thinking I was walking in straight lines.

One advantage to doing stuff like this in the winter is that it started to get dark soon, so I (completely freaked out by now, thanks brain) sat up on a big bit of stone nearby to see what would happen.

Well. Here are the before and after shots guys:

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: BIT OF MOOR, NO BUILDING]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, BUILDING?!]

Can’t even tell you what it looked like appearing, it was just there, a bit to the left of where I thought it was going to be. It’s not as ruined as the main house, but I think that’s because there’s less of it, and it’s completed made of stone with no tiles or wooden roof beams to decay. Looks like the windows are broken and there’s a fair bit of vegetation sticking out of that top-left window though, so there’s no way it’s still inhabited, thank goodness.

And here’s my confession: all I did was take this picture. I couldn’t face the idea of going any nearer, not while it was getting dark and I had imagined all sorts of creepy nonsense for hours lol

Plan is to return in the morning and see if I can get in.

Later!


	3. Serlo's Blessing

Hello again! Thanks again for your comments, and I want to say once again THANK YOU to exploratrix, your information made it so much easier for me to contextualise what I saw and heard (yes, HEARD) here today. 

So not to beat about the bush: I got into the building.

I got there just before sunrise (miserable dark walk over the moor, but you all know it’s worth it) and the building did its there/not there trick just as I approached.

I was almost expecting resistance, but I got through the door no problem. Looks like there was a wooden door here once but it’s long gone:

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: DOORWAY FROM OUTSIDE]

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: DOORWAY FROM INSIDE]

Sorry about the haze on the photos, you know how cameras can be when there’s spells going on.

Anyway, after all that mystery the building was pretty small, dark and damp at first glance.

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: DOWNSTAIRS IN PINK BUILDING, IT’S DARK IN HERE]

One big room on the ground floor; of course there might’ve been wood or plaster dividing walls. If so they aren’t there anymore.

In the pic above, note the big hole in the ceiling, I’m assuming this is where the staircase led up to the second floor. No way to get up there without a ladder, so I’ll bring one next time (really looking forward to dragging that across the moor, lol).

This is where it gets interesting. I sat down in the middle of the room on my fold-out camping stool and got out the big mirror. Did the usual (as before please find the complete spell write-up in the comments) and… nothing. Nothing at all. Fairly unsurprising, given that I wasn’t feeling completely spellsick like I had been at the main house, but who went to the trouble of enchanting this house (and I know it was a house, after today) if there wasn’t something else going on here?

So I’ve been doing some research of my own into magical houses and the Absalom Shadow House came to mind while I was sitting there in that dark little room.

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: VIEW TOWARDS THE DOORWAY FROM WHERE I WAS SITTING, IT’S STILL DARK IN HERE]

The story about that place was that all the magic attempted there started to manifest again after the owner’s death, with no input needed from the visitor. So I just sat still for a while. I sniffed some herbs and just tried to get fully zen.

Right move. Within about ten minutes I started to hear voices. I was in some kind of trance at that point and I just did my best to stay still and calm and listen. I tried to transcribe what I heard afterwards, but I didn’t want to risk moving and getting my notepad so they might be a bit jumbled. I heard:

  * The sound of a chair scraping a stone floor on the floor above me
  * A cat meowing
  * What sounded like a window shutter opening and closing
  * Muffled voices speaking and laughing – sounded like a man or maybe two men having a conversation just out of my hearing
  * The sound of footsteps coming down a wooden staircase behind me!



That last one gave me enough of a fright to stand up and I immediately lost the thread.

The thing that’s harder to explain (and that I can’t take pictures of, sadly) was the emotional resonance of that place. The person coming down the stairs was happy. The scrape of the chair was anxious. The cat was meowing to someone who cared about it.

That muffled conversation… it felt like I was eavesdropping on something pretty private, even though I couldn’t hear the words.

Even more astonishing – when I got up to leave, as I was packing my bag I heard, clear as anything, a man’s voice say “John”. Wish I’d had my Dictaphone with me, it was as clear as if someone had leaned over my shoulder and said it right in my ear.

I have NEVER experienced anything as clear as this in any magical location without casting a single spell. I’ve felt impressions, I’ve seen that weird overlay effect that can happen when a place isn’t quite all the way into our world, but I’ve never heard a human voice just leak out of a place like that.

I left soon after, but I want you all to take a look at a picture I took of the building as I walked away (yes, I can see it all the time now, I suppose that now that I’ve seen it and been inside it the hiding spell doesn’t work on me anymore):

[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: PINK HOUSE FROM THE BACK, HUMAN FIGURE IN DOORWAY?]

I know what I said about ghosts, but that looks to me distinctly like a person in the doorway, watching me leave. I felt watched, too, and I felt a deep sense of fondness and regret coming from that house.

I know it sounds cheesy to talk about sensing emotions, but I’m telling you, there’s some magic so baked into that building that it feels intelligent. I’m going to try some spells next time, but I want to bring my Dictaphone in case I can get anything on tape. It’s worth a try and I’ve got a few spells that help with magical interference.

So, the reason I know it’s a house is because I finally found a reference to it in literature. Once again exploratrix has been a life-saver and recommended me some sources for the life of John Segundus at Starecross Hall.

From my reading, in 1820-something John Segundus noted in his household journal that a small folly had been given to a member of the teaching staff, John Childermass (I remember this name from my studies but I couldn’t have told you who he was or what he was associated with). So that explains what the building is, but not why it was enchanted at some point to only appear at dawn and dusk.

I suppose this John Childermass could’ve just been a secretive guy.

So the plan going forward is to do some serious research at the Childermass house, and probably spend a whole day and night there if I can. Still no sign that the farmer who owns the land knows or cares that I’ve been there. I wonder if they know about the house. Might drop in on them once I’ve finished my own observations.

Expet a BIG update from me soon guys, I've got a feeling I'll have something really interesting next time.


	4. Asmody's Citadel

_The following consists of a long post that was edited and added many times – seems the OP decided to add to this post over the course of a couple of weeks._

\---

That ladder was a pain in the bum to get here, but it’s been worth it.

My camera resolutely refused to work on the first floor, so I’ll just need to use my words.

The top floor of this house was… empty.

I don’t know what I expected. The same as downstairs I suppose, weeds and earth and fox shit. Upstairs there is a small tree that’s taken root in a small amount of leaf compost that’s blown in the open window, and in that tree a bird’s nest. Not sure what bird (I’m not an ornithologist OR a photographer, I guess), and there was no-one home while I was there, but apart from that it’s in pretty good nick.

I brought a little camping mat to sit on while I did my spells. Obvs I did my fave, and – well. I’ll just put it all down from my notes:

Stonespeak spell: a lot harder to do than previously. Felt two resistances, a rocky, hard, cold sort of resistance and a more polite-but-firm “no thank you” that I recognised from the main house. Assuming that first one is the house’s owner, it looks like John Segundus must have helped him with his spells here (I made a note here to get properly stuck into the book of collected letters of John Segundus I bought yesterday). Anyway, once I insisted I did get something. The stones told me kind of a rambly story about HIDING, SECRET, MAGIC, LOVE, LONELY, CAT, HAPPY and SAD. They also kept pushing the image of a stone flag out on the grounds somewhere, not clear where and not clear why. Bears further investigation.

Ambient effects: not as much this time. I heard the window-shutter sound again, and then I thought I heard the bird return to its nest – a flurry of wings, but I didn’t turn my head and then when I looked later there was nothing there. Maybe also the murmur of words, this time from the floor below me. I smelled tobacco smoke briefly.

I felt -hm. A lot of feelings. Need to do more research before I say any more about this.

\---

I was up till arse o’clock reading that book of letters. Looks like John Childermass was someone he wrote to fairly regularly. One of those “oh, men were just more effusive in those days with their friends” things, from the editor’s notes. Hm.

What did I say before, that I don’t go to places to do weird spells? Hah, first time for everything.

If I had felt at any time unwelcome in this place I wouldn’t persist. I can’t imagine what it was like in those days. I mean it’s bad enough today, they’re only just now debating repealing Section 28 and the shit I’m hearing when I watch the news on BBC Scotland is horrifying. That Brian Souter bastard. As a school teacher the law must have been a terrible burden on John Segundus’ life. I don’t want to pry into things I’m not supposed to see, but the house showed itself to me, didn’t it?

\---

\---

Went up yesterday with a camping mat, ladder, spell kit and enough food for a night and a day. Just as well because I’m only just home.

I did a weird spell. I’ve slept out at places before when I’ve been convinced something interesting was going to happen at some time in the night, but I’ve never done this kind of dreaming spell.

Been recording audio as well. Folks, it was a lot.

I lay down on my camping mat and I said the spell-words. I fell asleep.

\---

When I’m in the spell I can see another room overlaid on the waking world. Upstairs is, in fact, two rooms. A study/library with a modest number of books and, behind a wood-and-plaster dividing wall, a bedroom. I could see both rooms because everything was insubstantial and translucent. The bedroom contained a smallish curtained double bed, and some kind of washing apparatus in the corner. The other room, the one that staircase rose into, had a desk at the window and two bookshelves.

And there was a man sitting at the desk. He didn’t see me, and he was translucent like everything else. He had dark hair and, weirdly, the tree was growing through the desk, through his body, and the bird’s nest projected into his head.

There was the sound of the door opening and closing down below. The man scraped his chair back and stood, and a cat jumped down from the top of the book-case and followed him out of the room, down the wooden staircase.

\---

The black cat was purring and rubbing against me. I looked up – a different man was standing there, looking at me – no, at the cat. He laughed, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something to the cat. This man I recognised – this was John Segundus. Strange to actually see the man whose magic I was drowning in last week! Handsome wee guy, tbh. The cat walked away from me and jumped onto the desk. It started to lap from a teacup that had been left on the desk. The man laughed again and shooed it away from the cup, before looking up suddenly as if he had been called. He walked over to the bedroom door and opened it, stepping inside. I realised the other man, the dark-haired man, surely John Childermass, had called him in there. I looked over and – they were kissing. I looked away.

\---

**Audio transcription:**

**[Static]**

**Man’s voice (Segundus?): “…and I really do think that it will work next time John, it’s merely the [unintelligible, static] over your meaning, and if you were only able to- ” [voice cuts out suddenly]**

**[Static]**

**Second voice, yelling: “WILL YOU GET THAT CAT OUT OF MY SIGHT?!”**

**First voice: [Laughter]**

**Second voice: “It is that cat that has been interfering all along, I have told you- “**

**First voice: “- all right, all right, come here Asmodeus-“**

**[Cat meowing, sounds fade out as if losing reception on a radio]**

**[Long period of static]**

**Second voice: “John”.**

**[Long period of static]**

**First voice: “John”**

**[Static becoming squealing magical interference sounds]**

\---

COuldn’t get into the house right away this time. Something was holding me back, like a hedge of thorns or a wall of ivy. I asked nicely and it let me past.

I came into the house and everything was hazy, like a fog was covering my eyes. Someone was crying, water was dripping somewhere and there was an intermittent sound like a flurry of wings. I didn’t stay long. The sound of a spade cutting earth rang in my ears as I walked away.

\---

Downstairs has a small kitchen and a room with a fireplace and two chairs. A thick velvet curtain covers the door, which is carved with carnations, roses and ivy on the inside.

I’m in front of the doorway when someone knocks. The dark-haired man (certainly John Childermass) walks through me to open it. Segundus enters and I step aside, they embrace. There’s a fire burning, and bread and cheese in a dish next to the toasting forks propped against the grate.

They sit down and time seems to speed past me, I see hundreds of conversations, I see them leaving and coming back, I see Segundus knocking and Childermass answering, I see them entering and leaving together, separately, I see the cat being let out and let back in, I see a tame raven alight on the windowsill and knock to be let in through the window shutter.

\---

Magic is being done in the upper room. A large mirror ripples like water. The tame raven croaks as someone waves a hand and intones something I can’t hear. Someone else is reclining in the desk chair, his head cradled in his hand watching the other man work.

Suddenly they both turn to look at me and seem to see me. I’m embarrassed and try to apologise, but then it all swims out of view and I’m alone in the cold, dark, empty house. The bird’s nest is swaying gently as if something has just taken off, some leaves have fallen off the tree and landed at my feet.

\---

Audio transcription:

**[Static]**

**Second voice: “I’d say he has made quite an improvement in the last week, if you’re asking”.**

**First voice: “Are you quite sure? I really do not want to have to write to his father again”.**

**Second voice: “He’ll be reet, John”.**

**First voice: [Sighs, fading into static]**

**[Static]**

\---

Couldn’t get in at all. All the house would show me was the image of that stone slab, and its firm and polite “no thank you” over and over again.

\---

The house is empty. It's Christmas, apparently, as there's holly on the mantelpiece and mistletoe over the door. The cat Asmodeus us asleep in front of a dying fire.

I feel the overlay flicker, the embers and the dead fireplace replacing each other back and forth.

The door bursts open and I turn, embarrassed again. They enter, laughing, stamping snow off boots and closing the door behind them. The roses in the door carving twist and grow around the carnations. There's a sense of a delicious meal just shared at the main house. I look to the main house from the window but it's still a ruin to me, I can't see the warm, welcoming lighted windows they must have just left.

A bottle in uncorked and wine poured. They toast in front of the fire. I look at John Childermass and John Segundus, both with grey hair and looking older than I've ever seen them, as they smile at one another and drink to each other's health, their magic swirling in the air and settling into the stones of the house, sending these images into the future for me to see. 

\---

**Audio transcription:**

**[Sounds of weeping and a bird calling far away.]**

**[Static]**

**"John"**

**[Static]**

**"John"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to the saddest song I know, "The Light on the Shore" by Karine Polwart, many times while writing this chapter.


	5. In this handmade heaven, we forget the time

Thanks for sticking with me everyone. I know that last entry was a bit _freeform_ , but you try transcribing the things I’ve seen over the last few weeks. Apologies for the long gap between posts, too.

Right. So three things have happened.

  1. I found that slab.
  2. I met the farmer.
  3. …well.



OK, in order:

  1. I had a good old wander around the field surrounding the house and I found it. And… it’s a grave. Which is what I expected, bet you all did too. It’s local, ammonite-pocked sandstone, flat to the ground, pretty weathered but still readable.



[BROKEN JPEG. Alt text: “J CHILDERMASS. THE KING’S MAN”]

He must have really loved this place, to be buried here. So I had a sit down by the grave, and I spoke to the stone a little. It’s my affinity, and tombstones often want to talk. It told me something surprising though – it said “he is not here”. I put my hand on the stone and felt around a bit and I could feel the bones down there, past the ammonites in the slab – he definitely IS there, at least his bones are. But it was adamant – “he is not here”. I felt around a little more and I was so surprised that I kept arguing with it – “not only is he here, they BOTH are”. Stupid to argue with a stone, but hey, I’m deep in weird spell country at this point so what the hell. It wouldn’t say anything else after that, just “he is not here”.

So I stopped arguing with the sandstone and I just sat a bit longer, just thinking about those two magicians and the life they led. I went and got some ivy from the side of the house and I made a wreath, which I left on the slab.

Then I went to the pub.

I walked down to Robin Hood’s bay and went into the Dolphin, the Theakston’s pub on King street. I needed a drink.

I could probably do a whole investigation into this place if the owners were willing to let me have a chat with their walls and their big stone fireplace. Watch this space I guess.

I ordered chips and bought a pint and sat and finished off that book of letters - the epilogue mentions that John Segundus's burial place is not known at this time, and that John Childermass was buried in the grounds of Starecross house at his own bequest. I had a good laugh at that, and a little bit of a cry. And then-

  1. The farmer. I was wiping my eyes and putting vinegar on my chips when she sat down at my table and just looked at me. I jumped so hard when I looked up and saw her that the condiment bottle wobbled on the table and threatened to spill. I didn't catch on to who she was at first, just thought some odd lady wanted to cheer me up and maybe steal my chips, but then she asked me what I thought I had found on her land.



We had a good chat, actually. She’s owned the land all her life. Her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother (I’m not making fun, she said all five greats like it really mattered to her) was a pupil of John Segundus’s at Starecross, and she holds the place in high regard. She asked me if I'd spotted the giant ammonite fossil in the barn. I hadn't, but she told me that no-one had ever believed it was real, but that it had been brought from far away by magical means by Mr Segundus as a gift for Mr Childermass, and that I should "have a chat with it", if I wanted to hear some stories.

Now that I feel I know them a bit, it's easy to picture that neat little gentleman wanting to surprise his proto-goth boyfriend. It's making me smile even now as I type this.

I asked her about what we’ve been speculating on regarding the decay of the house ruin and she just kind of looked at me for a minute and then recited (what I’ve since learned) is an old skipping rhyme:

_Magic comes in at the king’s right hand  
And at the end returns to the king’s land_

Some people will be reading this and thinking “duh, I’ve heard that a thousand times” but we didn’t know that one when I was wee in Glasgow, sorry. I think I understand what she meant, though.

I told her I was glad the holiday home plans hadn’t gone ahead, and she laughed. I bought her a pint.

  1. I wandered back past the grave, past my ivy-wreath, and up to the house. It was expectant. I went in the door. I could hear rustling and fluttering upstairs. I kept thinking about that poem, you know the one: “do not stand at my grave and weep”?



I said out loud “he’s not there”. The stones of the house all said ???

It was like a held breath

I said it again: “he’s not there. They’re not there. They’re somewhere else”.

An exhalation, and a furious flurry of wings

I went home.

\---

Sorry for the abrupt end to that last post.

I'm not sure what else to say. None of this went the way I thought it would. 

I'm torn between two extremes. part of me wants to write a book about this, about them, and who they really were and their life together, and where they might be now, beyond anywhere we can know.

But part of me feels like I've pried unforgivably into private things and, what's worse, I've shared it all with who knows how many people. 

If you come looking for these posts again and they're gone, you'll know what decision I've made.

Thanks for everyone's lovely comments. I've been back to the grave once, this time with a bouquet of roses and carnations to place alongside the ivy wreath. I said a small spell to tie up all of your kind words with the flowers, so that if they're... aware, somehow, they'll know how well we all wish them.

And at least the house will know, as it continues its slow return to its king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love visiting historical places and just furiously imagining what people's lives were like, and picturing them going about their everyday lives. Catch me any time of the year at Stirling Castle or Provand's Lordship or Whitby Abbey just blissfully hallucinating ghosts.
> 
> Marry that to my (recently acquired) conviction that John² had a long and happy life together (and beyond), and to my particular love of this stretch of the North Yorkshire coast as well as the fact that I've adored this book since I read it in Harrogate in the summer of 2005 and you get this. I know Starecross isn't meant to be on the coast, but well...
> 
> Many, MANY thanks to my partner the Crossest Man in Scotland (Crossest Man for short) for helping me by listening to me talk and offering so many good ideas, and showing me pictures of lovely ammonite gravestones and giant fossils from New Zealand.


End file.
